Inked and Inclined: Lily Avery
Photos by Madeleine Ivey
Permanence is a luxury. A luxury that can never be achieved. We lust for it because during the span of our lives everything eventually decays and is forgotten. As artists, we desperately try to solidify ourselves through our work in hopes that it sticks even after we are no longer tangible. This is a fight we will ultimately lose.
Tattoos are considered permanent. But in reality, they aren’t. Their lifespan is parallel to ours. When we finally turn to dust, they too are stripped from the records.
Lily Avery, a fourth-year writing major from Ranger, Georgia, knows better than anyone about life’s transient quality. Due to her parents tumultuous relationship, and her father’s constant battle with depression, her grandparents took her under their wing and acted as her guardians.
The tattoo imprinted on her left leg was inspired by a photograph she took of her childhood home. It captures her favorite spot on her grandparent’s farm: a 125 acre horse farm in north Georgia residing at the start of the Appalachian trail. It frames the rolling mountains, the trees in the fall and how the sun shines through the leaves.
After leaving her hometown and coming to SCAD, she was homesick. But returning to the farm was never the same as what the photograph held. It held a time in her life when she didn’t have to worry about anything. Life was filled with “One day’s,” not the “Today’s” which are stressed in her life now. The daffodils sprouting along the farm’s driveway are just as colorful and pungent as they were in the past. The creek that weaves through the land she explored with her dog when she was a child still intrigues her.
“I don’t really see the difference in the lines on the lands, but more so in the lines on my grandmother’s face.”
Living with her grandparents was a blessing for Avery. They taught her everything from reading to writing, and to really appreciate how the little things in life are monumental. They never had much in the form of money or entertainment beside what adventures the farm offered, but it was never an issue. She was raised well. Avery’s grandfather passed when she was 14. To pay homage to the man who raised her, she had “Silence” sewn into her skin.
“Everyone in my family has huge tempers and fly on the handle at anything. He’d tell me to remain silent and let the anger trickle out. Even though he never followed his own advice, I listened.”
Her grandfather may no longer be with her, but his words still reverberate in her mind and on her flesh. The place she grew up may no longer hold the same mysteries and brightness it used to, but she appreciates what it did for her and the future it made possible. The tattoo of her home and the tattoo of her grandfather’s biggest lesson may not be permanent, and will most likely not be remembered by the world. But these emotionally-filled depictions of her youth will last as long as she remains breathing, and that is a luxury worth having.
